


keep me going longer

by vindice



Series: life of me [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunnyx Mick, Comfort, Devotion, FBI Agent Arthur Ketch, M/M, Mentions of Mick owning a Miraculous, Miraculous AU, Pre-Relationship, Protective Mick Davies, for context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: There is one thing Mick can do.
Relationships: Mick Davies/Arthur Ketch
Series: life of me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706038
Kudos: 9





	keep me going longer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [on beyond your way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862076) by [vindice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice). 



> things you said when you thought i was asleep
> 
> Set at the same time as _[on beyond your way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862076)_ , but you don’t need to read it to understand. However, it would make more sense if you do. If you don’t wanna read all the way through, just skip to the part where Sam apologizes on behalf of Charlie and the others.
> 
> Or: all you need to know is that Mick is accompanying Ketch as emotional support.

Arthur doesn’t like talking about work. That’s okay, because Mick is very perceptive and he doesn’t like making Arthur talk about potentially unpleasant things, either.

He’s worked hard to make himself Arthur’s safe haven: a place in the shape of a person, where no matter the location or the occasion Arthur can look forward to—can feel free to be himself, knowing he’s unjudged—and he’s bloody proud of it. So he just keeps quiet and waits; for Arthur to open up, at his own pace, on his own terms, and what he doesn’t tell, well. Mick picks what he needs to know from Arthur’s body language alone.

Sam always says it’s a feat in and of itself, that he doesn’t believe there will ever be another person who can read Ketch the way Mick does. Mick thinks that’s quite untrue; Dean comes fairly close, even if not altogether. The Winchesters are all very observant, each in their own particular way.

Still, the fact remains, Mick is the only one who knows Arthur well.

And right now, Mick can tell, Arthur is having a difficult time.

He knows it from Arthur’s index finger, curled into his palm while the rest stay open and semi-splayed by his hip, as if the tension of his body was stored in that one digit, his other arm resting on his face and covering his eyes with the back of his hand. Knows it in the way his chest rises and falls, how every third breath the intake is faster as if he can’t quite get enough air.

Mick caresses his jaw as he crouches beside the sofa. The suite isn’t that big; the bed is a few feet farther inside, yet Arthur passed out here. Didn’t even draw down the throw-blanket Mick carries everywhere he follows Arthur to and leaves on the back of sofas for them to tug at when they’re about to drowse. He must truly be exhausted.

Mick purses his lips. He undoes Arthur’s tie, unbuttons his collar with surprisingly steady fingers so Arthur can breathe easier.

He’s become acquainted with the low, ugly feeling harboring in his chest by now. This hot, simmering rage, growing hotly in his belly, has been building gradually over the past few months.

A few stray drops fall from his still wet hair into the soft, velvet fuzz. Mick takes a moment to ground himself. He doesn’t let the feeling consume him, even if it awaits like a dormant beast. Attacks haven’t been heard of outside of the Kansas area, but the last thing he needs is an akuma following him all the way here, hundreds of miles away from Mister Bug and his Cleansing while having in his power such a critical Miraculous.

Arthur never talks about Asmodeus more than he has to, but Mick doesn’t need to be told to know he’s an abusive prat. He gathers as much from the look of distaste in Arthur’s face any time he comes up in conversation while they dine together whenever Arthur is in town, the general unhappiness that pinches the corner of his mouth and the slight bags under his eyes as he apologizes for being unable to come as often as either of them would like.

Arthur used to love working for the FBI. He still does, adores his job with an intensity that takes Mick’s breath away from how passionate he is about his career, how bright his eyes shine when something good happens at work. But ever since Asmodeus became his boss, that spark has been getting duller. The environment at work has been abrasive, frustrating. Even less lenient than usual.

Mick knows Arthur can take it. Together they have been through worse, and Arthur has overcome a lot of obstacles of his own. That doesn’t mean Mick worries any less about his health, mental or else, the toll having an abusive authority on one’s life takes.

The last thing they need is another Hess.

“If I could,” Mick begins in a low voice, caressing Arthur’s cheek, taking comfort in his best friend’s slumbering state. “I would keep you away from them, hide you in my breast pocket to keep you safe, so that they couldn’t drain you,” he confides. “But, alas, I can’t. So I have to settle for the next best thing. And this, at least, is something I know how to do. Something I am familiar with.”

Mick leans forward to kiss Arthur’s temple, missing the way his friend’s index finger twitches at the gesture, how in his contemplation he doesn’t notice Arthur’s next breath faltering around the edges, even though he had stopped having trouble breathing when Mick undid his collar earlier. 

As quietly as he can, Mick stands and pulls the blanket, covers Arthur with it, and musses Arthur’s hair gently.

“I’ll take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I’ll take care of you.”  
> “It’s rotten work.”  
> “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”


End file.
